The Match
by pacphys
Summary: Mikey has a little trouble.


**Disclaimer: ** I deny any ownership of Michelangelo or his family members. Also places, other characters and anything else that is even remotely TMNT is not mine either. They are the genius creations of Eastman and Laird and are owned by others, mostly Mirage. Anyhoo, I don't get paid for this, I mean no harm, and I don't have enough of anything to make suing me worthwhile to anyone anyway, so please don't.

**A/N: **A HUGE Thank you going out to **Aries Zodiac** For the beta and help getting this little tale to pull together like this. And another to **PossDownUnder** for the assistance with the little prank. YOU GUYS ROCK!

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**The Match**

I exited my room with one purpose in mind. One simple task, supposedly anyway. It wasn't like I hadn't done this before, even if Leo was the one who usually did this sort of thing. Nothing I intended to do was new territory. I was just lighting a candle. I'd been doing it since I was just a little turtle tot. Well, since Master Splinter first allowed us to anyway, and that was a long time ago! I'd never had a problem before. Well, that's not really true, but I hadn't had a problem in years, and never one like this.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Why would I be lighting a candle anyway? I could tell you that Master Splinter asked me to, or I could tell you that I was meditating, as if you'd believe that. No. I'd come across the bottom bit of a rose scented candle that was just begging to get itself lit and put into Raph's room to burn out and leave it smelling like some old lady's.

I picked up the matchbox that Leo had recently left on the coffee table after doing just as I was about to do, without the rose scent or the practical joke in mind of course. I'm sure he used his candle for meditation or something. He likes to do that. I knelt at one end of the table I struck the match.

Nothing happened.

I was mildly annoyed at the unlit stick before I turned it over and tried again.

Nothing happened.

Another quarter turn, and a third attempt; ditto with the not lighting bit. I tried the match one last unsuccessful time before deciding that stick was a dud and moving onto a new one. The top of the first match was all black and I knew it wouldn't light on it's own now anyway. I dropped the dud onto the coffee table and left it there to worry about later. There was absolutely no doubt in my mind that Leo would find it there and demand to know who had been using 'his' matches, but I didn't really care. Leo's annoyance at stolen matches was always funny. He gets so worked up over nothing. Time to take a chill pill, bro. It's just a match. Besides, Leo usually blames Don for swiping the matches. That just makes it more fun!

I don't really know why Leo always blames him. Donnie never uses matches. He's fine with a welding torch or any other gas powered flame, but refuses to light a simple match and isn't terribly fond of candles either. I don't even pretend to understand that one, and apparently Leo hasn't noticed that little... quirk.

HA! I like that word. Quirk. It sounds funny. Quirk. Come on, say it with me. Quirk! Three times fast. Quirkquirkquirk!

Anyway, Raphael has been known to 'swipe' matches, but he's usually sneakier about it than I am. This sort of leaving duds around is my trick and mine alone. I grinned at the match sitting on the table before concentrating on the new one in my hand. No sense burning myself as I light a match now. Then I'd have to explain it, though I could probably come up with something good.

The first time I struck the second match nothing happened. It was beginning to get a little old, but I just turned it around and tried again.

The match rebelled. Rebelled, I tell you! I have no idea how it happened. While I could ask Donnie for an explanation, I don't really want to know. Also, that would have told him who he's been taking blame for all these years. I'm convinced that he doesn't know who keeps leaving dead matchsticks around. If he did, Leo would know too.

Right, I was telling a story. Rebelling matchstick. Have you ever had one of those moments when you know you're screwed? A split second that seems to take forever? I think it happens just to drive it into your head exactly how screwed you are. Well, this was one of those moments. The match snapped in half. Now, this wouldn't be so bad if that's all that had happened. But no! No, it had to go and light before snapping in half. Six attempts at lighting a stupid match and the time it works is the time it snaps in half and makes like a bird.

Oh, but it gets better. I'm standing there with the not burning end of the match in my hand while the flaming half flies over the coffee table and lands on a rug in front of Master Splinter's favorite chair. This is a good six feet, mind you. Well, I jumped up as quickly as I could, but there's something about those seconds after an I'm-so-screwed moment that just makes you all clumsy. I'm not usually clumsy, but I tripped over the rug on my end of the table and, in a moment of true grace, landed on my face. Kinda a swan dive into the floor, only with more flailing involved.

Never one to give up, I tried again. I finally made it to my feet, but by now the match had long since lit the rug on fire. Lucky for me, the flame was still small and I could just blow it out because I didn't have any water or anything like that with me.

Well, the fire was out, and I was just about to go try lighting my candle again when I realized that there was a tell-tale burn mark on the rug. And right by Sensei's chair too! I might be able to pass that one off on Raph, but he doesn't take to kindly to being blamed for stuff he didn't do. And there's not a chance on the planet that Donnie would leave the room like this. Nope, I was screwed with a capital Q.

Not seeing any other options, I twisted the rug back so the burnt corner was hidden underneath Master Splinter's chair. Looking back on it now, I think this might have been my undoing. Guess I wasn't thinking that far ahead. I lit my candle, carefully hid it in Raph's room, went back to the comic book I was reading and promptly forgot all about the little burn mark on the rug. I'm good at plausible deniability. That is, I forgot about it until I heard Leo shouting later that evening. That and Donnie's insistent, if quieter, tones reminded me of what had occurred that afternoon.

"I swear it wasn't me, Leo!"

"You're the one who leaves the dud matches around!" Leonardo shouted back.

"I am not! You always blame me for those, but it's not me!"

"Donnie, don't you lie to me!"

"I didn't do it, Leo! Besides, I know better than to rearrange the rugs. You always notice when someone moves something."

Evidently, that statement struck a chord with my tightly wound brother because the next thing I knew, he was storming into my room. That all led to my current predicament. Leo can be quite creative when he wants to be, and I guess he felt creative this evening. I'm not quite sure how he got permission for this particular punishment, but I'm sure he did. Usually, when we get in trouble we have to do flips. It can be painful if you do something bad enough that Master Splinter leaves the room and expects you to continue until he tells you to stop. Leo has left me alone until he tells me to stop. And he gave me an obstacle. Darn him. There's a row of burning candles behind me, and if I knock one over, I get to resurface the floor of the dojo. I guess that means I should probably be paying more attention to these flips, huh?

Whoops.

_Oh Shell!

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**A/N:** This is possible! Though, I don't think it's really all that probable. Either way, in the true story the match I was lighting in the kitchen landed in the middle of the living room carpet and I moved the coffee table to cover it up. The Leo-type roomie I was living with at the time noticed the moment she walked in the door. I knew she'd notice eventually, but I kinda thought I'd at least be safe until she actually got into the living room. It just seemed like something that would happen to Mikey.


End file.
